"Yah!" he snarled, having heard Merry's voice and recognized him. "So it's you! I've found you! Take that!"
He pitched forward a revolver and fired pointblank at Frank.
At that very instant, with a cry, Pablo, the Mexican boy, leaped in front of Merry.
Struck by the bullet intended for Frank, the little fellow tossed up his arms and fell backward into Merriwell's clasp. At the same instant somebody shot Jim Tracy through the brain.
As Merriwell lowered the death-stricken boy, the[Pg 161] raiders, completely baffled, gave over the attack and took to flight, leaving half their number behind, stretched upon the ground.
"Are you hurt—badly?" asked Frank, as one of the boy's arms dropped limply over his neck and seemed to cling there.
For a moment there was no answer. Then came the faintly whispered words:
"I—theenk—I—am—keeled—Señor Merriwell."
"Oh, no, Gonchita!" said Frank earnestly; "not as bad as that! It cannot be!"
"You know me," was the surprised whisper. "How you know I am Gonchita?"